Spear
by SilverEyes
Summary: Alternate ending to the story--Who wins in the end? Jack? Ralph? Both? Neither? You can decide.


He stumbled over a root and the cry that pursued him rose even higher. He saw a shelter burst into flames and the fire flapped at his right shoulder and there was the glitter of water. Then he was down, rolling over and over in the warm sand, crouching with arm to ward off, trying to cry for mercy.

He staggered to his feet, tensed for more terrors, and looked up at a huge peaked cap. It was a white-topped cap, and above the green shade of the peak was a crown, an anchor, gold foliage. He saw white drill, epaulettes, a revolver, a row of gilt buttons down the front of a uniform.

The sounds of crackling flame and cries from the mass that was coming closer were blocked to him now, though he knew they still raged on. With trembling fingers he reached towards the pure whiteness in front of him, eager to feel the stiff fabric of clean cloth.

For a few moments he couldn't bring himself to touch it. His hands were covered in blood and dirt, and the coat was so white, so pure…

So he stood there with his hand outstretched, watching the silent licks of orange and red reflecting in the brilliant gold buttons. A sudden whoop from behind him sounded, and with a desperate hand he grabbed for the white smudge in front of his eyes that were now tearing at the corners.

He needn't have worried about dirtying the jacket, for his hand went right through it as though it was a wisp of smoke. He blinked, and there was nothing there. No buttons, no revolver, no beautifully white comfort. The sounds of the forest and the hunters were suddenly booming all around him like a volcano about to erupt.

His hand was still outstretched; reaching for something he knew was not going to be there. Nothing was going to be there. At least nothing he _wanted_ to grasp. Instead, where, seconds before his vision had stood as real as him, a spear was being held right by his throat.

Behind it, his green and black and red mask streaked where the heat of the flames had melted off bits where his skin was now visible, stood Jack.

"You've lost, Ralph," the chief said. 

Those three words sent a shudder through Ralph's body as though a chilly wind had blown. But there was no wind. There was only Jack.

The rest of the hunters formed a circle around the two, all spears pointing inward at the captive.

"Have I?" Ralph said calmly. The calmness surprised him as well as Jack, whose savage face gave way to a surprised look for a fleeting second.

"Have I?" Ralph said again, feeling a sense of strong ness creep back into his body, "Have I, Jack?"

He shouted the last bit, and with the force came the rush of tears. But they did nothing to ebb the new flow of rage that was coursing through his tired body.

"Do you really think I've lost, Jack?" Ralph shouted. The circle stirred tensely, changing the grips on their spears.

"I haven't lost anything, Jack Merridew!" he cried, flinging his head back to let the tears roll down his scarred cheeks, "Simon lost! Piggy lost! And because of that—" he brought his head back down and stared directly into the glaring eyes before him to announce the last bit in a low, harsh whisper, "You lost."

A crash from the burning island told them a tree had fallen down, but no one jumped in surprise. All attention was focused on the chieftains in the center of the deadly circle, one with power over them and the other with power over himself.

The bits of Jack's face that could be seen deepened to a furious scarlet as his spear trembled in his fingers, eager to plunge into something, kill something. The fair-haired boy looked past the weapon to its owner. 

"So you see," Ralph said in so casual a voice he might have been commenting on the weather, eyebrows raised and eyes innocently widened, "You're the one who has lost at your own game, Jack, and behind that mask, I think you know it."

Jack's spear suddenly shot forward as he let out a choked cry filled with rage and tears. The end of the stick struck Ralph in the chest and he was knocked backward off his feet to come to a hard thump on his back on the sand.

A few in the circle gasped, but were quickly silenced by one look from Jack.Ralph touched his hand to his chest and brought it up to see that his fingers were coated with blood. He looked at up Jack, who was standing over him, spear touched lightly against Ralph's heart.

"I'll kill you Ralph," Jack whispered shakily through gritted teeth, angry tears creating wet streams over the painted face, "I swear I'll kill you."

The prospect of death did nothing to strike fear into Ralph's heart now, as it would have earlier. He had died a little bit when Simon had been killed and when Piggy was taken away from him. His heart was in ruins, little more than an empty space inside of him.

The look of stillness seemed to drive Jack into a more hysterical state.

"I said I'll kill you, Ralph!" he wailed, tears wracking his entire body.

"I heard you. It won't prove anything, Jack."

"It will prove that I'm chief! That I've really been chief all along!" Jack cried, his spear dangerously close to impaling the boy beneath.

"I thought you had already proved that," Ralph said, waving a hand to indicate the streaked bodies grouped around him, "You've proved it to them."

Jack glared through his tears, the paint from his face running onto his neck and chest.

"But perhaps you need to prove it to yourself," Ralph said in a low murmur. 

Silence.

Something was happening to Jack. Something that caused everyone in the circle to stare at him through their wide-eyed masks. Jack was lowering his spear, bringing it to his side and extending a hand to help his captive off the ground. A small smile was tugging at the corners of his lips.

Ralph looked at the hand before him, and the grinning face of the boy it belonged to. With tangible confusion and uncertainty he grasped it and Jack pulled him to his feet.

"I'm not going to kill you Ralph," Jack announced, the tears gone.

"But you said—"

"No I didn't. I'm not going to kill you."

The bodies around them lowered the butts of their spears to the ground and looked quizzically at one another.

Jack began to laugh. A clear, loud sound of true mirth that set all of them shivering for unknown reasons.

Ralph backed away a little and bumped against two members of the barricade. He looked behind him to see Samneric standing there, wearing identical expressions of confusion on their streaked faces.

As Ralph looked at them through bright eyes and they looked back, an understanding passed between them. As Jack took a step toward Ralph, Samneric moved out of the way at the exact same time, creating a gap through which Ralph fled, running as fast as he could, kicking up hot sand.

Two identical shouts from behind him told him that Jack had shoved the twins down and was now chasing Ralph across the beach.

Unlike the other chase, there were no whoops or shouted signals. The pounding of the forest, his feet, the waves and his heart were filling Ralph's ears as he ran. He wasn't even sure if everyone was following him, or just Jack.

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and held it there as he continued on. The prospect of having to face Jack in his new mood was not something he wanted to do. He was less scary when he was mad. 

Heart beating wildly and rhythmically with his sore feet, he heard his name from behind him.

"Ralph!"

He didn't stop. The wall of heat that was constantly in front of him was beginning to take his breath away as he struggled for air, the hot sharp, stabs of pain piercing his body.

Desperately, he waded into the clear water that loomed to the side. He wanted nothing more than to feel the lovely water against his aches and pains, lapping over him and encasing him in its dark and comfortable depths. It would welcome him rather than drown him.

As he splashed further and further out, the shout came again.

"Ralph!"

He looked back towards the beach where Jack and the hunters stood, halos of heat around all their heads.

Ralph shook his head and kept wading. What lay out there was better than what lay back on the burning hell of an island. 

"I'm not going to come in after you, Ralph!" Jack shouted. He didn't sound angry, but rather annoyed. His spear was in his hand, but casually, not ready to strike.

"I'm not going to let you kill me, Jack," Ralph said defiantly towards the open ocean. Ralph wondered how Jack heard him over the roaring waves.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Jack cried, exasperated, "I'm not going to kill you!"

Ralph turned and looked at him.

"One of them will."

Jack looked around at his convoy of hunters. Then, miraculously, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. They looked at him and each other for a moment before he gave a more forceful signal which sent them barreling off into the glimmering heat.

"Now they can't," Jack said finally, "It's just me and you."

Ralph took another step out into the water.

"Where are you going to go, Ralph?" Jack laughed, "You are going to bring your death upon yourself, there's nothing out there."

He was right. Ralph was miserable. But wait a moment…_was_ he right? 

Shielding his eyes, Ralph gazed out over the swells. On the horizon was something to make his heart stop it's pounding.

A ship.

Like a small toy boat bobbing in a large tub.

Ralph glanced quickly at Jack. He was standing with his arms crossed over his paint-streaked chest, looking over Ralph.

Ralph swore silently. His eyes were playing games again, just as they had right before Jack had caught up to him. He was going mad. It was enough to make him scream. When he did, Jack's lips split apart to reveal a wide grin.

"Come into shore and we'll talk, Ralph," he said, his voice sweet against the roar of sea and island, "We'll talk."

Ralph took an involuntary step towards shore. Jack's grin grew wider.

"Yes, come on, Ralph. Everything is going to be all right."

Ralph took a few more steps until he was only waist deep in the waves, the current tugging gently at his legs.

"I can't trust you," he said, with regret in his voice.

Only then did Jack make his way into the ocean to stand beside Ralph, his spear left back on the beach. He thrust his head forward into the waves with a splash and began rubbing his face and hair under the water.

When he emerged with a stream of water making an arc in the air Ralph gave a gasp.

Jack was standing before him, not a chief nor a hunter. His face held no trace of paint, no mask to conceal his true form. His hair shone bright red in long wet tendrils that dripped over his forehead.

"Jack?" Ralph whispered. He had forgotten what his former friend had looked like.

The grin that was already on Jack's face grew wider.

"Come on, let's go back to shore now that you can trust me again."

Ralph followed this time. It was hard not to. Seeing the innocent face of the red haired boy once more captivated him.

As they reached the shore, Jack bent down and grabbed his spear once more and leaned on it, looking at Ralph through his hair. Ralph thought he saw Jacks eyes flicker back towards the ocean for a second, but Jack spoke and held his attention.

"See? You can trust Jack Merridew. Jack Merridew would never kill you, Ralph." 

Ralph could do nothing but stare as the newly clean boy before him held up a finger, then slowly raked it across his chest where the remains of some of the paint that had not come off in the ocean still stuck.

A kind of calm terror surged through Ralph. Jack brought the finger up to his face and pulled it down the center of his forehead, covering his nose with a blood red streak. His smile grew deadly as he spoke.

"But I'm not Jack Merridew anymore, am I, Ralph?" he whispered with a grin. The spear in his hand was brought up to Ralph's neck as the demonic glint in his eyes became fully pronounced.

The sharp thrust made Ralph choke, his hands slipping in his own blood around his neck. White-hot lights blinked in front of him. If he was weeping again, he couldn't tell. He was on his stomach on the sand, barely able to hold his head up. Jack loomed over him, spear at the ready.

"Look at the water, Ralph," Jack called, loud through Ralph's gasps, "There's your bloody ship!"

So it was real. It hadn't been his imagination. It was closer now, but not so close as to actually be able to see what was going on. Ralph couldn't cry out. He couldn't do anything except gasp.

Jack pulled him up ruthlessly by the neck, talking directly to him, the cold smile playing on his lips.

"And there's your bloody fire," he laughed mockingly, referring to the flickering tangle of jungle, "They must have seen it. You were right all along about fire, Ralph."

Jack leaned in closer.

"Did you hear me, Ralph?" he snickered bitterly, "You were right all along!" He threw Ralph back down on the sand and delicately traced the point of his spear along the boys exposed spine.

"Only…" he said thoughtfully, looking out to the open ocean, a serene power in his icy blue eyes "You won't be here to tell anyone how right you were."

Ralph didn't want to look at Jack. Or what was left of Jack. There wasn't much.

The only thing he knew was that when the boat came he, Ralph, would not be there to rejoice in it. Instead, the stranger with the spear and the streak on his face would jump and wave as the ship came closer and closer to rescue him. He would stand, silhouetted against the towering flames, but none of them would warm his steel heart. 

And the creature with the blue eyes and the remains of a black cap on his head would laugh and laugh. Because he would think he'd finally won. 

But Ralph would know he hadn't.

Only there was nothing he could do about it, because the spear came hard and fast.


End file.
